Page 48 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
“I thought he might eat her all up!” Jon declared. “Like the wolf on his carriage!”
Samantha rolled her eyes. “Silly boy. That’s his family’s crest. You’ll understand everything better when you’re all grown up,” she said.
“Why don’t we have a wolf crest?” he asked.
“Because we are not peers,” Samantha explained. “That’s why.”
“Well, I’d rather be an admiral in the Navy,” Jon declared.
“Aunt Em could cheer him,” Lettie stated with conviction, and then tilted her sister a curious look. “How does he look at her, Sam?”
Samantha patted her consolingly upon the shoulder. “Never mind,” she said and shook her head in quite a matronly fashion. “You’re much, much too young to understand.”
“If they get married, I wonder if Aunt Em will be a princess,” Lettie pondered aloud.
Samantha shook her head. “No, she would be a duchess, though it’s still a wonderful fairy tale.”
“Papa says they’re both too stubborn for their own goods,” Jon informed them both, impressing them with his garnered knowledge.
Lettie’s brows collided. “Did he really?” She cocked her head at Samantha. “Sam... do you think Aunt Em loves the duke?”
“Oh, but how could she not!” Samantha replied with certainty. “He’s so terribly, terribly handsome!”
Jonathon scrunched his nose. “Handsome is as handsome does,” he proclaimed, parroting something their parents had often said to him.
None of them really knew what it meant.
Samantha sighed dramatically, “What, oh what do we do now?”
“Well... when I am sick in my room,” Jonathon interjected, speaking to no one in particular, “Aunt Em comes and reads to me.”
Lettie nodded. “She likes to read.”
“She’s smart,” Jonathon continued, his eyes bright with admiration.
Lettie nodded again. “From reading all those books,” she agreed. “Aunt Em always knowsexactlywhat to do.” She heaved a hopeless sigh, and yielded, “I only wish we did, too.”
“Well,” Jonathon announced offhandedly, “we could make him sick?”
Both girls turned to gawk at him, mouths agape.
“Don’t be silly.” Lettie said after a horrified moment. “We wouldn’t want to make the duke sick!” She boxed his ears. “He’s a duke, after all!”
“Owww!” Jonathon rubbed his ears. “Well, but we wouldn’treallymake him sick,” he recanted, pouting. “We could only pretend he is sick and tell Aunt Em. She would go to his room,” he insisted. “I know she would because she’s the one who always comes to mine. Motheralwayssends her.”
“Really, Jonathon,” Lettie scolded, shaking her head soberly. “That would never, never do. Why,” she proposed sensibly, throwing up her hands in an exasperated fashion, “however would we make him stay in bed?”
Samantha’s eyes widened abruptly, and she giggled impishly. She threw a hand over her mouth. “Well,” she proposed, her eyes sparkling anew with mischief, “maybe we could steal his clothes...”
CHAPTER5
By the evening, there was still no sign of his wheels and supper with the Peterses was awkward at best, particularly with Emma’s absence from the table. Lucien was unused to spying little faces across the table. They were well behaved, speaking only when spoken to, though he was certain they had developed some secret language that was comprehensible only to them—one that precluded the opening of their mouths, for their eyes spoke volumes.
Unlike the dinner hour at Willyngham Hall, the mood was light and jovial, and the fare simple but tasty. Peters actually jested with the servants, advising them of which dishes to hoard away for themselves in the kitchens, “if they didn’t want to miss out.”
In contrast, his dinner last week at Buckingham Palace was quite extraordinary, but solemn. He found himself wanting to tell them about thepfefferkuchenhaus—a gingerbread house decorated with candies, sweets and sugar icing—that had adorned the Queen’s table, and theChriststollen, a fruitcake with marzipan filling. Both were German dishes the Queen’s new husband had introduced to the royal holiday table. But he said nothing, feeling ill at ease at the prospect of insinuating himself into their holiday traditions—particularly with Emma so conspicuously absent.
As he understood it, she had taken her meal in her room—something she had apparently never done in all her life. He felt like an ogre full of humbuggery, despite that Peters and his wife were as gracious as they came. It didn’t appear to bother Peters in the least that his sister was protesting Lucien’s presence.
